


I Could Lose Myself in You

by RubyBakeneko



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Codependency, Creepy Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mild (and Brief) Breathplay, Murder Husbands, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Season/Series 03, Will Uses His Empathy During Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 20:31:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11928708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyBakeneko/pseuds/RubyBakeneko
Summary: Hannibal loves having Will inside him. Will explores some of the needs and feelings behind this.





	I Could Lose Myself in You

**Author's Note:**

> I was on vacation this week and thought I’d have lots of time to write something for #ItsStillBeautiful, but it didn’t quite turn out that way! Consequently, this isn’t as polished as I would like. It’s just a smutty bit of fluff, really, with some appropriately unhealthy overtones.

Hannibal is engrossed in his book when Will climbs onto the bed to straddle him, plucking the book from his hands and carelessly tossing it to one side. 

Hannibal tilts his head back. “Are we so far past common courtesy? Rude, Will.”

“Appallingly so,” Will agrees, leaning in toward him and pausing just above his mouth. “But I think it’s a little late for our relationship to be defined by courtesy.”

Hannibal savors the smoothness of slightly parted lips, the sharp smell of lemongrass shampoo. Steam still curls from the bathroom door behind Will as they kiss, damp heat rising from his freshly washed skin.

Hannibal reaches for a handful of wet hair and pulls Will closer, mouth opening for his tongue. Will’s hand works its way downwards until he’s gently cupping Hannibal’s soft cock through thin cotton. He hums quietly into Hannibal’s mouth, and the rumble vibrates through his chest, warming him all the way down to his groin.

He closes his eyes and lets Will tease him to hardness with a lazily stroking thumb. As minutes pass, those delicate, light touches gradually become purposeful. Hannibal throbs in his pajamas, parting his legs in a silent request for more.

Increasingly fixated and demanding, Will rubs at him, stroking and massaging, kissing him lewdly. Hannibal barely makes a sound, but he knows his body is betraying his mounting need, his breath quickening and his pulse racing. Will sometimes continues just like this for torturous lengths of time, balancing the two of them on the line between frustration and bliss, winding them up as tightly as possible and never actually touching naked skin. He is as mercurial and curious in bed as he is everywhere else, and the results are wholly unpredictable.

Right now, he stares down between their legs, his jaw slack and his palm pressed against the solid curve of Hannibal’s erection. Hannibal considers flipping their positions—he thinks about pinning Will down and fucking him until he is hoarse from crying out at the gnawing pleasure of it, imagines littering him with bruises and bites that he can touch and examine like precious souvenirs. But that’s not what Hannibal wants tonight, and Will knows it.

—

He fucks Hannibal slowly, kneeling on the bed and guiding him backward, sliding into him with a contented groan. Hannibal is open and slick from the careful work of Will’s fingers, his cock resting hard against his stomach and his thighs spread wide by Will’s hands. The movements of their hips are leisurely and liquid, gradually escalating their arousal until they are moaning with the ache of it, Hannibal's hands fisted in the sheets at his side. He can come this way, he has discovered to his delight—simply from the knowledge and sensation of Will’s presence in his body, from the heat of Will’s words.

His knuckles white and his hair falling across his forehead, Hannibal’s imagination paints a glorious picture of how they must look—the two of them entwined, Will slick from exertion by now, his muscles stretching and contracting as he thrusts. His steady gaze is hyper-focused and piercing, as though he can see all the way through to the very back of Hannibal’s skull. He craves the chance to see Will like this, drunk on the fascinating new physicality of their relationship and the avenues of exploration it provides. It excites him beyond measure that Will that can come so close to overwhelming him.

“You love this,” Will says, lips parting in desire and concentration. “Having me inside you.”

It could sound arrogant coming from someone else. From Will, it is merely a statement of fact—a truth mainlined straight from Hannibal’s mind and reflected back to him without judgment.

“It’s the only thing better than watching you take a life,” Hannibal says truthfully, eyelids fluttering through a rapturous wave of pleasure.

Will is barely moving now beyond a slow grind, one hand gripping Hannibal’s leg and the other hovering over his throat. “Somehow, this—it’s what makes you feel like you really _have_ me.”

Hannibal tilts his chin up just a fraction in invitation, sighing with gratification as fingers wrap around his neck and squeeze ever so slightly. His cock twitches and leaks onto his stomach, lips curving into a faint smile as he feels the blood rush beneath the press of Will’s hand, sees the hot flash of passion and violence in his face.

Will lets go, color rising in his cheeks. “This isn’t any kind of submission for you—it’s just another form of consumption,” he says. “You are taking me into your body, with hunger and greed.”

“Proof of your appetite and satisfaction of mine,” Hannibal says breathlessly.

His eyes flicker to the uneven scar on Will’s cheek, and he reaches up to stroke it as they resume their previous rhythm. A series of beautiful pictures rise in his memory—he remembers the two of them working as one in their ruthless victory against the Dragon, recalls the look on Will’s face the first time they made love. He yearns to feel Will everywhere at once, the desire as fervent as it is senseless.

Will understands, pushing two fingers into Hannibal’s mouth. He seals his lips around them, the salty flavor bursting on his tongue as he closes his teeth around the knuckles and listens to the hitch of breath he gets in response. He can taste Will, but he can also taste himself—the sweat from the hollow of his throat where Will’s hand had pressed down, and the tang of the lubricant used to work him open.

“I’m so deep inside you, Hannibal,” Will murmurs, looking at him through dark lashes and playing him expertly, hands moving back down to hold his thighs. “I can feel you molding around me, like you want to swallow me whole.”

It’s no surprise that Will’s uncanny psychological abilities make him an excellent lover, allowing him to intuit all manner of secrets from the most minuscule bodily cues. What Hannibal failed to foresee is that Will can also wield his incisive empathy cruelly, verbalizing insights that leave Hannibal’s psyche stripped bare. It a striking display of Will's complex power, his dangerous vitality. Hannibal can feel his skin peeling back under Will’s fingertips sometimes, layer by layer, in ecstatic discomfort. It is wonderful and terrible, loving and brutal—everything he has come to expect Will to provide.

“You can’t get enough of me, can you? I think you’d like me to crawl right into your body if I could,” Will continues, pushing in as far as he can and circling his hips. “You dream about it, don’t you? Obligate symbiosis, so we can no longer live apart. So I can never leave.”

They pause, something painful twisting in Hannibal's gut. “So we can never lose each other again,” he says hoarsely.

Will looks stricken. He leans down closer, supporting himself with his elbows and crushing their lips together. He pours emotion into their desperate kiss, the movements of their mouths sloppy and frantic as he drives into Hannibal fast and hard.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Will pants. He is clearly drowning in pure sensation now, climbing past the point of dissecting Hannibal’s desires. His kisses on Hannibal’s neck are feverish and open-mouthed, their sticky bodies pressed together and their nails digging into each other’s flesh. 

Will bites into the tender spot next to Hannibal’s jaw and he arches into it, loves the feeling of teeth scraping the soft skin. Will leans in closer—so close that his lips are touching Hannibal’s ear, each breath a humid tickle that raises the hairs on the back of his neck. 

Will’s voice lowers to a shaky whisper. “Do you wish I could reach a hand into your chest and touch your heart?”

And, of course, that’s what makes Hannibal come—the image of Will’s bloody fingers in his rib cage, curled around his beating heart. His cock jerks between them as he shoots across both of their stomachs. Will moans helplessly and spills inside him, gasping his name, eyes squeezed tight shut. 

Their breathing slows in unison, no other sound but the wind in the trees outside. They will stay like this as long as they can, in a sated tangle of arms and legs.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m also [rubybakeneko](https://rubybakeneko.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Come and say hi any time! And [here's the link to this story on tumblr, should you feel inclined to share it](https://rubybakeneko.tumblr.com/post/164699519765/i-could-lose-myself-in-you-rubybakeneko%22). Thanks for reading!


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